


Thursday Sessions

by extrastellar



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, College Parties, M/M, Mental Instability, Therapy, i mean it's joffrey and viserys, who has the more fucked up family?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-24 17:02:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9773444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/extrastellar/pseuds/extrastellar
Summary: In which college students Joffrey Baratheon and Viserys Targaryen share the same psychotherapist.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [【Translation/授权翻译】周四会诊](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15277065) by [Carmen_Shing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carmen_Shing/pseuds/Carmen_Shing)



> I'm... just gonna drop this here... and leave...

It was all Myrcella's fault. Stupid Myrcella with her big green eyes and pleading words. It was only because of her that he was here. 

Joffrey sat in his car and stared at the building with the sign in front of it saying _Oldtown Citadel therapists & psychiatrists_. His father – could he really call him that now that he knew that his mother's twin, Jaime, was his actual father? - had argued with his mother about sending Joffrey to a psychiatrist when he was still in his early teens. 

Now he was a young adult of 21 years, studied economics at King's Landing University with the same “issues”, as Myrcella called them, he had as a teenager.

Oh, and add the recent reveal that he was a child born out of twincest, his brother and sister as well. Myrcella, it turned out, had known of that since she was about 16 years old when uncle Jaime hinted at it while picking her up from Dorne. She was rather relaxed when Cersei and Jaime revealed it to their children, Tommen had been as pale as a sheet and Joffrey... well, Joffrey had gone on a rampage. He had thrown plates at his mother and his uncle/biological father, screamed and left. With no friends to go to – he didn't have friends ever since Sandor realised what a prick Joffrey was and his ex-girlfriends weren't on quite good terms with him. Sansa considered him a monster, Margaery had been faking affection to get to his brother (didn't that almost count as pedophilia? Tommen had been 14, Margaery 17!). So he had just holed up in his dorm room and stabbed his pillows with that ancient dagger his grandfather had given him for his 16th name day. Heart-eater was the dagger's name and he had to hide it well from his slightly paranoid roommate, a Frey, probably a Walder. Joffrey had never bothered to remember his name.

His phone buzzed.

Joffrey glanced at the screen: a text from Myrcella.

_”are you at the therapist's?”_

Joffrey grimaced. _”about 2 go in. stop annoying me”_

_”i'll have varys tell me if you actually went, you know”_

He turned his phone mute without texting a reply, stepped out of the car, locked it and strode up to the entrance.

There was a strict looking man sitting behind the front desk with a pair of big glasses on top of his nose.

“I have an appointment for 4pm”, Joffrey said and the man stared at him from over the frame of his glasses.

“Name?”, he asked dryly.

“Joffrey Baratheon. Hurry up, I don't have all day!”, he snapped back.

The man arched both eyebrows and turned a few pages in the calendar. “Maester Clynton will see you in fifteen minutes. He still has a patient.”

“Fifteen?!”, Joffrey called and slammed both hands on the counter. “Listen, I don't know if you're aware _who_ I am, but I don't have time for-”

“The waiting room is this way.” 

Joffrey glared at the man who interrupted him so harshly and stalked off in the given direction. It didn't make sense to talk sense into _peasants_ like that guy. 

There were only two more people in the waiting room. One of them was a middle aged woman fidgeting constantly, the other was a guy who was about his age. 

The chairs looked comfortable enough so Joffrey took a seat. The magazines were all stupid scientific shit that could barely count as the Common Tongue, so he glanced at the guy sitting on the other side of the room. 

He had silver hair and his eyes were lilac. His cheekbones were sharp and the guy was reading the economy newspaper Joffrey had to read for his lectures, too. The guy wore expensive black jeans, black dress shoes and a red button-up. 

_Quite a dress-up for a session with the therapist_ , Joffrey thought. His own blue jeans were quite expensive too, his family was rich after all, why not use it, and so were his Nikes and his sweater, but at least he didn't look as if he'd go try and win a dancing competition. 

One of the adjacent doors opened and a maester called: “Mr Targaryen!” 

The guy put the newspaper away, rose and narrowed his eyes when he caught Joffrey's look.  
Joffrey only smirked. 

oOoOoOoOoOoOo 

Dinner with Trystane and Myrcella. Every fucking Friday. A nightmare. 

“So how did it go?”, Myrcella asked while pouring some Arbour Gold. “The session, I mean.” 

“There was a Targaryen in the waiting room”, Joffrey said and grabbed his glass. Normally, Margaery and Tommen would be joining them, but Margaery had to go to her grandmother's and Tommen, the little traitor, accompanied her like the good boyfriend he was, leaving his brother all alone with lovey-dovey TrysCella. 

“Well, since Aerys Targaryen nearly burned down the Red Keep, I guess it's only natural for the family to get tested for similar mental issues”, Myrcella said. “But I meant the actual therapy session, Joff.” 

“None of your damn business”, Joffrey snapped and took a deep gulp of his wine. 

“Hey, watch it!”, Trystane warned. 

“Of course it's my business, Joff”, Myrcella said quietly. “I'm your sister.” 

“Sister? Or cousin? Oh wait! Both! I forgot!”, he hissed and emptied his glass. “See you next Friday.” 

oOoOoOoOoOoOo 

Joffrey didn't think he'd go a second time. But here he was, in the waiting room, with Mr Targaryen. The guy was wearing a black button-up, blue jeans and dress shoes this time and he was scrolling on his phone instead of reading a newspaper. 

Joffrey noticed that he wore his hair a bit longer than average, but it didn't look bad on him. Quite the opposite, actually. Well, the man _was_ handsome with his high cheekbones and lilac eyes and- 

“Are you checking me out?” 

Joffrey choked. “What?!” 

Mr Targaryen lifted his gaze from his phone and frowned at Joffrey. 

“Are you checking me out?”, he repeated. “I wouldn't be surprised as I'm of the blood of the dragon and blessed with striking beauty, but I'm currently not interested in a long-term relationship.” 

“I'm not checking you out, fancy pansy!”, Joffrey snapped. “Seven hells. Mind your own damn business.” 

“Looking at me to get some fashion advice, then?”, Mr Targaryen asked and gestured at Joffrey's King's-Landing-University-hoodie with a grimace. 

“What did you just-” 

“Oh, come on!”, the guy said with a sneer. “You look like a Lannister. Aren't you supposed to be rich? Afford some proper clothes, Goldilocks.” 

“Aren't you a Targaryen? Shouldn't you be locked up in a straight-jacket?”, Joffrey growled and his knuckles shone white through the skin on his hands. 

“That's why I'm here”, Mr Targaryen shot back. “Madness is so hard to define. My father wasn't mad, despite what everyone says. It's obvious that Jaime Lannister and Robert Baratheon were responsible for the fire in the Red Keep to remove my father from the board of his own company.” 

“So your father is that insane old fucker Aerys? I thought Rhaegar Targaryen was supposed to be handsome. Honestly, such a disappointment”, Joffrey drawled. “And _please_ , my grandfather ran the damn company. As if your lame father did _anything_.” 

“No one ran the company except for Aerys Targaryen, 2nd of his name, and I'm _not_ Rhaegar!”, the Targaryen snapped and just when Joffrey opened his mouth to retort, one of the doors opened. 

“Mr Baratheon!” 

Joffrey could feel the nameless Targaryen's gaze burning into his back when he walked into the maester's room. 

oOoOoOoOoOoOo 

Joffrey decided to ditch dinner with Myrcella, Trystane, Tommen and Margaery this week. They'd just ask him about the damn session and to be honest, Joffrey really didn't want to talk about it. The maester had said something about genetic predisposition because of his twincestuous parentage, parental neglect in his childhood and his mother's and legal father's shitty relationship, blah blah blah. 

There was a campus party tonight and Joffrey could use some really good alcohol right now. He needed Jägermeister or vodka, not Myrcella's Arbour Gold. 

His uncle Renly was only five years older than Joffrey and even though Renly was almost painfully gay, his parties were legendary at King's Landing Uni. 

The walls of the dormitory were basically vibrating with the bass of the music coming from Renly's and Loras' apartment, there were people dancing and drinking in the hallway when Joffrey wormed his way into the packed apartment. The sound boxes were close to exploding with the volume of the music and the glasses and bottles in the kitchen were shaking because of it. 

“Hey!”, Joffrey yelled over the music at a girl standing in the kitchen. “Gimme a Jägermeister!” 

The girl turned around, smiled devilishly and drank the rest of the last Jägermeister bottle in one go. “Oops”, she called and grinned. “Did you want some? Sorry, Joffrey, seems like there's nothing left!” 

“Fuck you, Myranda!”, he growled, grabbed a bottle of cheap Wodka Gorbatschow instead and took a long swig. The people around him hooted until he put the bottle down. His throat was burning, but he could already feel the alcohol getting to work. 

A badly mixed drink in his hand, Joffrey squeezed past his uncle shoving his tongue down Loras Tyrell's throat (gross. This was _not_ something he wanted to remember at stupid family reunions) and Oberyn Martell grinding up against a furiously blushing Willas Tyrell. Ramsay Bolton had a drinking competition with theology student Beric Dondarrion, Theon Greyjoy was stumbling around as high as a kite with Robb Stark following him to make sure he didn't try to jump out of a window, and _seven hells_ , was that his despisable half-brother Gendry Waters over there?! 

“H-hey, watch where y're goin!”, someone slurred next to him. 

“Jus' stop stumblin' 'round, ya cunt”, Joffrey snarled back and nearly spilled his drink all over the other guy when someone bumped into him. 

“Heh, ya wanna wake the dragon, heh?!”, the guy growled and Joffrey choked when he turned to face him. 

Ridiculously drunk, but this was definitely Mr Targaryen from the waiting room. 

“Woah, Baratheon from the rapist! Uh, therapist!” 

Joffrey gave the asshole snob a quick once-over. Sinfully tight black jeans, deep red dress shirt over a white T-Shirt with a three-headed dragon print and the black slogan **Fire and Blood**.

“Like what ya see?”, the Targaryen slurred and wiggled his eyebrows before thrusting the bottle of Berentzen Sour Apple he was holding into the air when the chorus of the song started. “Hey, wha's ya name?”

“Joffrey”, Joffrey called over the music and yanked the bottle from the taller guy to take a long swig. The Targaryen started to smirk manically. “Yours?”

“Viserys”, the guy replied, barely loud enough to be heard over the thundering music. “Viserys Targaryen, 3rd of my name.”

The people erupted in cheers when Oberyn climbed on the table when Christina Aguilera's “Burlesque” came on.

Joffrey, drunk as he was, joined in the yelling and made a grab for Viserys' Berentzen once more.

 

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

 

Joffrey had never regretted drinking so much alcohol in one night. 

Most people had managed to leave the Renras/Lenly-apartment in the early morning hours, but about half a dozen guests had passed out before.

Now Renly, Loras, Theon, Joffrey, Jon, Viserys, Dickon Tarly and Tyene Sand sat at the kitchen table littered with empty cups and bottles, each with a glass of Aspirin in front of them. 

“Someone has to volunteer for tidying up”, Loras announced. The youngest Tyrell's son's curls were all over the place and his eyes were red.

No reaction.

“Tarly, you help”, Renly decided.

“What?! Why?!”, Dickon asked and Tyene growled at him to turn it down a notch or she'd cut off his balls.

“Your name's got a _dick_ in it and we like dicks”, Loras replied and chugged his Aspirin. “The rest of you, get the fuck out.”

Joffrey gladly followed that order for once. Someone had spilled their drink on his shirt and it stuck to his skin now. His hands were sticky with sweat and fruity alcohol and it was simply _gross_.

“See you at the Thursday session?”, Viserys muttered in the hallway.

Joffrey shrugged and immediately regretted the motion. “Probably.”

When he got back to his apartment and unplugged his phone, he would have screamed if not for his hangover: 21 missed calls from his mother, 11 missed calls from Myrcella, 5 missed calls from Jaime and even a missed call from his grandfather Tywin. Even Tommen, who was hella scared of his brother's moods, had sent a worried “r u ok?”.

Wow, he probably should have _told_ Myrcella he wasn't coming to the dinner.

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

 

On the third Thursday the weather was shittier than it had ever been in King's Landing. Additionally, all parking spots near the _Oldtown Citadel therapists & psychiatrists_-practice were occupied. Joffrey had to leave his car about two streets away from the practice and apparently, his umbrella couldn't handle the wind and the rain, therefore he had arrived at the waiting room with a broken umbrella and a new hairstyle.

“Aw. Did you not get a parking spot nearby?”, the slightly valyrian accented voice of Viserys Targaryen called.

Joffrey glared at the other man and shook his ruined umbrella in front of him, covering him with the leftover water (which was quite a bit).

“Seven hells!”, Viserys howled and wiped his wet face furiously. 

“I'm a Lannister and a Baratheon, a measly snake like you is not allowed to mock me!”, Joffrey hissed and wiped his own wet face with the hem of his shirt, well noticing the way Viserys' eyes fliced down to the exposed skin. 

Joffrey was fit enough, but not muscled. There were no abs to spot on his stomach, only the traces of lean muscle beneath unmarred skin. Whenever his half-brothers Gendry and Edric had been over, which required that Cersei Lannister was out of the house, Joffrey had been jealous of their thick arms and well-defined abdominal muscles. Gendry was even more jacked than Edric. Seven hells, even his half-sister Mya Stone probably packed more muscle than he did!

Joffrey sucked at rugby, much to his father's and uncle's disdain. Actually, to his whole family's disdain. He wasn't bad at volleyball and tennis, but rugby was everything to the mighty families of Westeros. Tyrells, Martells, Lannisters, Starks, Baratheons, Targaryens, Tullys and Greyjoys, even the smaller families like the Boltons and Tarlys, all their sons played rugby. Oberyn Martell, Robb Stark, Jon Snow, Loras Tyrell and Renly Baratheon were the great names of their generation. Of course barely one of them could hold a candle to Jaime Lannister, Jorah Mormont, Arthur Dayne or Rhaegar Targaryen. 

That made it even worse! Both his legal father and his biological father had been rugby geniuses, but Joffrey couldn't even catch the damn ball. 

“Measly snake?”, Viserys hissed and shot forward, grabbing Joffrey by the collar. “Do you have _any_ idea how powerful my family is? How powerful I am?”

Joffrey grabbed Viserys' own collar. For some reason, he wasn't frightened by the lanky Targaryen. If it was Rhaegar or _Seven hells_ , Sandor or his brother Gregor doing this, he would've pissed himself. Not that he'd ever admit that. “The Targaryen's days of wealth and glory are long over. The Lannisters send their regards, _we_ are ruling westerosi economy nowadays.”

Viserys didn't answer, instead his gaze travelled down to Joffrey's lips.

The blond man gulped and pushed the other away with a disgusted sneer. Targaryens were _filth_. “What was that, you pathetic fucking lizard?! How _dare_ you even think about that! Fuck off! Go and bang your sister like you Targaryens all do! Or your brother, if that's more like your thing! Maybe even both? Heard that poly shit happened in your fucked up family too!”

“ _My_ family is fucked up?!”, Viserys snapped. “Your mother is a sneaky bitch with no values but her cunt and her money! When did she tell you that she's fucking her twin brother? Two years ago? Oh no, wait, more like two _months_ ago!”

Joffrey clenched his hands to fists. “Insult my mother one more time and I'll kill you!”

Viserys cackled manically. “Try it! Come on, _try it!_ You're a coward, a weak, cruel little brat! You couldn't kill anyone!”

Joffrey wanted to turn around to yell at Meryn Trant or the Hound to teach that pale little fucker a lesson, but he was all alone. 

“You'll regret this”, he growled and pointed at the other man. “Wait till my parents hear about this.”

With these words, Joffrey hauled his broken umbrella at Viserys and ran out of the practice.

Fuck his appointment. Fuck that bastard.

Joffrey's anger had welled up so much he didn't even notice the rain drenching him. 

 

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

 

After coming home soaked to the bone, Joffrey took a searing hot shower, changed into his pyjamas and opened tumblr to spew some hate there. Nothing was better than screaming virtually than screaming in real life.

“Joff!”

Joffrey dropped his phone on his face and scrambled into a sitting position. “Myrcella, what the fuck are you doing here?!”

Myrcella Baratheon frowned at her brother and crossed her arms. “Are you in your pyjamas? It's 5pm!”

Joffrey shot her an ugly look.

“I asked”, he repeated, “what the fuck you're doing here.”

Myrcella sighed, sat on the edge of Joffrey's bed and threw her golden locks back. “ _Oldtown Citadel_ called me.”

“So what”, Joffrey spat.

“Apparently you screamed at Viserys Targaryen in the waiting room. Since you listed me as your person of trust – thank you for that, by the way – and agreed that I may stay up to the date with the recent sessions-”

“What's your point!”

Myrcella pressed her lips together. “Maester Clynton told me you suffer from a severe attention deficite syndrome and anger coping trouble. He also told me that your case goes beyong psychosis. It's a severe personality disorder. That includes loss of realtiy, loss of the ability to feel shame or guilt and extreme egocentricity. “

“Just say it: I'm a fucking psychopath”, Joffrey growled. “I don't care. Ramsay Bolton's a psycho too, and nobody cares. Except maybe Theon Greyjoy and Jeyne Poole.”

“Don't say things like that, Joff, please”, Myrcella said quietly. “They can help you.”

“I don't need help, do I look like I need help?”, Joffrey spat. “I don't care if some old dickhead with a medical degree thinks I'm fucked up. I'm fine and I don't need that psychotropic shit.”

Myrcella sighed and brushed a strand of golden hair behind her ear. “I know you don't want psychotropics. But maybe... you see, I know Daenerys Targaryen, Viserys' sister. And he has the _exact_ same diagnosis. We thought- maybe talking to someone who understands-”

“Viserys is an asshole with a good taste in alcohol.”

“I don't care if you're gonna booze or have a disturbed talk about terrorising people”, Myrcella said sharply. “If talking to someone like you helps you, I want you to do it.”

Joffrey's eyes narrowed. “Do I take orders from you?”

“That's not an order.”

“It damn well sounded like one!”

“It's a plea.”

“Don't beg!”, Joffrey hissed and clenched his hands around his phone. “We're half-stag, half-lion! _Ours is the fury_ , _Hear me roar_!”

“It's only lion, actually, remember?”, Myrcella said so quietly her brother couldn't hear it and rose. “Will you come tomorrow? Shireen is in twon, she'll drop by.”

Joffrey muttered a string of curse words and rolled over in bed without replying.

Myrcella sighed and left the note with Viserys' contact that she had gotten from Daenerys on her brother's coffee table.

Maybe it could help him.

 

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

Joffrey had had girlfriends. Sansa Stark being the first one, but after her father revealed Cersei's and Jaime's incestuous relationship and the whole DNA-test ordeal and PR trouble, he had apparently “terrorised” and “tortured” her. Nonsense, that dumb girl had needed a lesson for her father's outrageous exclamation. 

Which turned out to be true about two years later. 

Then came Margaery Tyrell, the beautiful young woman from Highgarden. Joffrey had been smitten and equally devastated when Margaery broke up with him only to announce her relationship with Tommen.

So, at age 21, Joffrey Baratheon, was single and a virgin.

While his younger brother of 18 wasn't.

While his younger sister of almost 20 wasn't either.

He felt terribly reminded of that now that his whole family was assembled. 

Joffrey sat at the large table of the Baratheon villa in Storm's End, in the south of King's Landing. The villa was Renly's house, which Cortnay Penrose held while Renly was at uni, Stannis had moved to Dragonstone and Robert, the oldest of the three brothers, had relocated to King's Landing. 

He couldn't remember when they had last had a family reunion of that size. Even if the topic was Robert's and Cersei's divorce.

Joffrey was seated next to Renly, who mocked him whenever he could, Myrcella and Tommen next to their mother. His legal father's children born out of wedlock, Gendry Waters, Edric Storm and Mya Stone sat at the table as well. Stannis and Selyse were there as well, even though they had divorced a while ago. Stannis' fiancé was Davos Seaworth and Shireen stayed with them, Selyse had moved to Asshai with her girlfriend Melisandre. Tyrion sat on Joffrey's other side. 

And then, of course, there were Cersei and Jaime, his biological parents, and his grandfather, Tywin Lannister.

“I don't see why we're here!”, Joffrey called out and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “We're all at uni, except for Tommen, don't tell me this is about damn custody.”

“Shut up, boy!”, Robert barked. “You have nothing to say!”

“I'm of age!”, Joffrey cried. 

“Joffrey”, Tywin said curtly. “Be quiet.”

Stannis rose. “Robert will keep the house in King's Landing. Gendry and Mya will move in with him, Edric will stay with Renly, that means with Mr Penrose until Renly graduates.”

That surprised Joffrey. Edric admired his father infinitelly, but he was closer to Renly. Still, he thought Edric would have chosen Robert.

“Myrcella and Tommen may keep the Baratheon name if they wish, Joffrey will take the Lannister name.”

Joffrey stared at his uncle in disbelief. “What?!”

He knew Robert didn't like him. Hell, he knew Robert _hated_ him. But allowing his siblings to continue wearing the Baratheon name while forcing him to become a Lannister?!

“We disagree”, Tywin said. “All three of them may decide which name they wish to have.”

“Could we hyphenate the names?”, Myrcella asked. 

“Of course”, Stannis replied. “But Joffrey will not stay a Baratheon.”

“Why prefer Myrcella and Tommen?”, Cersei asked with a voice like poisonous honey. “Joffrey will take on the hyphenated form of Baratheon-Lannister as well.”

Stannis didn't waver. “Joffrey brought a lot of shame to the Baratheon name.”

“So did Cersei and Jaime to the Lannister name”, Tywin said and gave the twins a hard look. “Yet they may keep it. I demand the same treatment for Joffrey.”

“What Joffrey did to my best friend's daughter is unspeakable”, Robert growled. “I don't want anyone to associate him with me.”

Joffrey sucked in a breath. That was like a punch to the stomach. 

“Master of Law!”, Tyrion called and Renly sighed. “What do you say?”

“According to law, all three must take the last name _Hill_ ”, Renly said, “as they were born out of wedlock. But that only applies to ordinary bastard children, not children born out of incest. So I'd stick with that the children may choose.”

“Robert”, Renly said and turned to his brother. “Let Joffrey hyphenate. It's not lawful to let two children choose while forcing the third to carry another name. That much is clear. There will be severe judicial consequences to _our_ family as well if you do so.”

Robert growled, but nodded.

“That is done, then”, Tywin said. “Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommen will hyphenate to Lannister-Baratheon.”

“Gendry, Edric and Mya will be legitimated as Baratheons”, Stannis proceeded, “and Gendry will become heir of the Red Keep as he is Robert's oldest son.”

“What?”, Jaime said with an arched eyebrow. “You don't want to have the Red Keep to yourself?”

Stannis pressed his lips together. “I respect the rules of succession unlike other people in this room. As soon as Gendry and Edric are legitimated, I'm only the third heir to the Red Keep.”

“Gendry Waters doesn't have the necessary skills to lead a company like the Red Keep”, Tywin said and shot Gendry a hard look. 

“I'm studying economics and business administration!”, Gendry called. “At King's Landing University! I have the same major as Joffrey!”

“Yes, after you had finished an apprenticeship as a mechanic”, Tywin retorted with an amused smile.

“Once Gendry finished his studies, he _will_ have the necessary skills”, Stannis continued. “Joffrey and Tommen have no claim at all. And Robert won't die as soon as Gendry is out of university.”

“Who can guarantee his future skills?”

“His grades.”

“I wish to see them.”

Stannis looked at Gendry who shrugged. “Okay. I'll send you a copy of my latest exams.”

Tywin nodded. “Very well. Is there anything else that we have to discuss without a lawyer?”

Stannis shook his head. “No.”

Cersei and Jaime were the first to leave.

 

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

 

Shards covered the floor of Joffrey's dorm room. Frey had left as soon as Joffrey came back and threw his car keys at him. Which proved to be a wise decision given the current state of the room.

Joffrey stood in the middle of the room, hands bloody from where the shards had cut him. He hauled another bottle of Frey's secret stock of alcohol at the wall with a choked off scream.

_Joffrey Lannister-Baratheon._

The proof of his parentage. Their families had tried to keep the media at bay, but there were rumours about the incestuous children of Cersei Baratheon and Jaime Lannister. 

His new name was nothing short of a confirmation of these rumours. 

Everyone would know. Everyone would look at him with disgust. Everyone would look at him like he was an even greater abomination than before.

Everyone would _mock_ him.

Joffrey hadn't touched a drop of the alcohol he was throwing against the walls. The stench of beer, vodka and schnapps was overwhelming, but Joffrey couldn't smell it throught he red veil of anger fogging up his mind.

The music he had turned up to muffle his screams and the shattering of glass was hurting his ears, but really, he couldn't care less.

People would mock him. _Nobody_ was allowed to mock him. He would make them scream in agony, he would make them beg for mercy, he would make their lives _hell_ if they dared to even chuckle!

Joffrey wiped his bloody hands on Frey's sheets and moved to grab another bottle, when he tripped over his coffee table.

“Fuck! Seven hells!”, he yelled and kicked the table as hard as he could, resulting in it moving a couple of inches. It had been a present of his mother, his mother who spread her legs for her brother, and he wanted nothing more than to burn it. Burn it all. Burn his room burn the uni, burn _everything_.

A bright yellow post-it stuck to his hand when he pulled himself up.

 _Viserys Targaryen: 00320-537-230, room 73_ -

Joffrey growled and ripped the post-it off to fish his phone out of his pocket, not caring about the specks of blood on the screen. He saved the number on the post-it under the name _mad pretty reptile_ and sent a text:

_”come over and destroy room 11 with me -joffrey_

He attached a quickly taken photo of his room and hit send.

If Viserys Targaryen was as insane as he himself apparently was, he wouldn't hesitate to show up.

About five minutes later the door to his room opened and a silver-haired head was stuck inside.

“Whose room is this?”, Viserys Targaryen asked with a mad glimmer in his violet eyes.

“Mine”, Joffrey growled and threw a bottle of cheap beer at Viserys. “Drink it, I don't care, but shatter it. Shatter _everything_.”

Viserys smirked and closed the door behind him. A second later a bottle shattered into hundreds of shards just next to Joffrey's head on the wall.

Joffrey smirked.

 

oOoOoOoOoOoOo

 

Twenty minutes later, all bottles were shattered except for one bottle of cheap sparkling wine. Frey's pillow was torn and feathers were everywhere, Joffrey's coffee table kicked to pieces, and textbooks scattered on the floor covered in shards and alcohol.

Joffrey and Viserys lay on the blond's bed, the only thing untouched by their mad rampage, and passed the sparkling wine between each other. It tasted like shit, but it would have to do.

“Thanks”, Joffrey muttered. “That was relieving.”

Viserys hummed and took a swig of the sparkling wine. “I understand.”

“You fucking don't.”

“I fucking do. Have done it myself several times.”

“Really?”, Joffrey asked and turned his head slightly to look at the Targaryen. 

“Of course”, Viserys replied and handed the bottle to Joffrey. “One of the reasons my sister sent me to these shrinks.”

“Your sister, too, huh”, Joffrey mumbled and sipped at the bottle. “She's dating that Vaes Dothrak exchange student, right?”

“I introduced them and she didn't show the least bit of gratitude”, the Targaryen said and frowned. “What do you mean, _too?”_

“My sister, Myrcella, sent me to the shrinks, too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“She's going out with Trystane Martell, isn't she?”, Viserys asked and Joffrey hummed an affirmation. “I dated his sister, Arianne, for a while.”

“I thought you Targaryens were all about that brother-sister-marriage.”

“Targaryens answered to neither gods nor men”, Viserys said with a deep sigh. “Things have changed. My brother Rhaegar married Elia Martell. Dany is dating Drogo. I've been going out with Arianne Martell. The blood of the dragon is sullied within Rhaenys and Aegon, but mine is still pure.”

“The sparkling wine is empty”, Joffrey exclaimed and threw the bottle away, to weak to manage a haul that would make it shatter. 

The two of them lay on Joffrey's bed without saying anything for a while until Viserys spoke up.

“Have you ever kissed a boy?”

Joffrey was too tired and too tiddly to gave a sharp response.

“No”, he answered.

“Ever thought about it?”

“Yeah.” But really, who didn't think about Loras Tyrell that way at least _once_? “You?”

“What, kissed or thought about it?”

“Both.”

“Kissed? No. Thought about it? Oh yes.”

Joffrey knew it was coming. He felt the matress dip when Viserys shifted. He slid closer.

He wasn't too drunk. He couldn't blame it on the alcohol.

 _Oh, fuck me_ , he thought. _The guy is hot. I'm sexually frustrated. I somehow like him. I don't have to find something to blame. It's completely justified._

So before Viserys could lower his head, Joffrey pushed the Targaryen back, sat up and crashed their lips together with wild hunger and ferocity.

Viserys gasped in surprise and Joffrey used that moment to shove his tongue into the other man's mouth.

It turned out that Viserys was a much more capable kisser than Joffrey. Joffrey's sloppy, hungry attempts were responded equally enthusiastic and hungry, but much more coordinated.

Teeth clacked together, but it bothered neither of them and only when both of them started to see stars behind their lids did they part.

“I hate you”, Viserys muttered and ran a hand through his silver hair that had been mussed by Joffrey's hands. Red blotches of Joffrey's bloody hands were smeared in the silver locks. 

Joffrey's smirk widened. His chest was heaving with each breath he sucked into his deprived lungs and the button-up he had to wear for the family meeting in the morning was rumpled. “That's a good thing, isn't it?”

Viserys laughed breathlessly and his fingers dug into Joffrey's sides. “Yeah, it is.”

They stayed like that for a couple of moments, catching their breath. 

“You”, Joffrey said and poked Viserys's chest with his index finger. “Go out with me.”

“I don't take orders from lion cubs”, Viserys said quietly and a new smirk crept onto his face.

“I will make you _beg_ ”, the blond hissed.

“Lions submit to dragons.” 

“They did _centuries_ ago.”

Viserys' fingers dug almost painfully into his skin now, but Joffrey found that he didn't mind. “Let's ditch the next shrink appointment.”

“I like how you talk. But you talk too way much”, Joffrey muttered and smashed their lips together once more.

He sent a silent thanks to Myrcella for arranging the thursday sessions.


End file.
